


Debts Owed

by junko



Category: Gangsta. (Manga)
Genre: Drabble, Drugs, Gen, Prostitution, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Threats of Violence, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-16
Updated: 2015-07-16
Packaged: 2018-04-09 15:30:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4354370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The gig working for Daniel Monroe sucks, but it's what Nicolas found shortly after he and Worick ended up in Egastulum's District 7.  Anyway, it was just a party.  How much trouble could it be?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Debts Owed

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place before Nic and Worick become Benriya. Worick says he went to work for Big Mama when he was fifteen, but I'm imagining them both as full adults here. I was inspired to write this after watching the third episode of the Anime. Some very light spoilers for the current manga chapters (though you could probably guess that Ivan is a dick without having read ahead.)

Ivan Glaziev was not a nice man.

There were very few people that Nicolas Brown actively avoided, but Ivan--? He was one seriously creepy fucker. In fact, since starting work for Monroe, Nic spent a lot of time intentionally not looking at Ivan. If Ivan was in the room, Nic’s eyes would just skip over him. He didn’t want to know what Ivan was doing, what he was up to. He sure as shit did not want to know what Ivan was saying. Especially not in “casual” situations like this. 

Nic wasn’t quite sure why he was at this party, except that Monroe told him to be here and so he was. Maybe the Family expected trouble. Nic figured that he should just assume his job was security unless otherwise told, so he stood at the back where he had a clear view of most of the room. His blood was singing from the precautionary uppers he’d taken from his emergency stash a few hours ago. His eyes darted from one conversation to the next, ‘listening’ for trouble. Mostly, he read only the typical banal come-ons and propositions of these kinds of soirees.

It was only a little awkward that Worick was here, too. A lot of the girls from Big Mama’s had been hired for the evening and apparently several of the boys, too.

Nic had kind of always figured Worick was bullshiting about how popular he was, but he sat on just as many laps as any of the girls. A lot of hands rested on his thighs or stroked his golden hair. A lot of sexual offers and suggestions were made. In fact, Nic stuck a pinkie in his ear, wiggling it, wishing he could unsee that last proposition. It seemed… gymnastic, to say the least. Nic sometimes wondered why more people didn’t react when people went around shouting out things like that, but then it occurred to him that the words had probably been whispered. The irony being that no one had heard the rude proposal besides Worick and himself, standing ten feet away.

The wall Nic leaned on vibrated when someone smacked a palm down beside his shoulder. Nic glanced over to see Ivan leering at him. “Oi, I was talking to you, freak.”

Even though Nic knew Ivan wouldn’t understand, he signed: _Fuck off, asshole._

“I asked you, you have to follow your owner’s orders, right?” Ivan continued as if Nic hadn’t said anything, which, technically, he supposed he hadn’t. Ivan’s words slurred together which made lip reading a challenge--one Nic wasn’t particularly interested in overcoming.

He turned his face away. This was really not a conversation he wanted to have ever, but especially not with a shitfaced drunk Ivan.

‘Owner.'

Most people at least tried to use the slightly more polite term,‘contract holder.’ It sounded more genteel, less dehumanizing. Not that most people considered people like Nic human, anyway.

The palm smacked down again, closer. 

Nic could feel Ivan’s breath hot on his ear, tickling the short hairs at his neck. The smell was no better, stinking of stale beer. From the way nearby people were turning to stare at them, Nic guessed Ivan was probably shouting fairly loudly. 

Nic’s hyped up nervous system was ready to strike out, bring this annoyance down, but suddenly Worick disengaged himself from his ‘friend.’ He moved towards them through the crowd, his hands up for peace and that never-quite-convincing smile on his face.

Daniel Monroe stood up, too, though his expression was grim.

Fuck. Nic should probably see what this jerk-off was actually saying.

“... had your Celebrer, then you'd fucking do what I say. That’s why you fucking Tags exist, isn’t it?” 

Nic grimaced. Shit, he’d missed the salient bit. What the hell did Ivan want him to do? 

Worick stepped in close enough to throw an arm around Nic’s shoulders. He smiled one of his swarmy, placating smiles and said, “I hate to quibble, but technically _I’m_ still this one’s contract holder. He’s only on lease to Monroe.”

Nic turned just in time to catch Ivan spit: “Well, then, you make him suck me off.”

“That, my dear friend, is a profound waste of talents. You don’t stick a loaded gun up your ass. And I sure as shit wouldn’t point it at my dick--not if I wanted to keep it,” Worick laughed. Touching a finger to his own nose, he said, “I’m the trained professional here, fool. You want a blow, I’ll blow your fucking mind.”

Monroe stepped up close enough to watch or maybe intercede. He smiled like this whole scene amused him. Looking directly at Nic, Monroe asked, “Should I let you play with him, boy?” 

Nic shrugged, signing: _All my toys break_.

Monroe cupped his ear, acting like he hadn’t understood, hadn’t heard.

“ **I bReaK mY toyS**.” Nic repeated, aloud. He gave Ivan a cold smile.

Worick’s his arm still casually resting on Nic’s shoulder, he tapped to get his attention. “Careful, I think you’re turning him on.”

Nic glanced at Ivan’s crotch and snorted. It did seem to be true. Most intelligent people backed down after Nic spoke, but Ivan’s eyes just got wider, hungrier.

Looking to Worick, Nic put on his best ‘innocent’ face and signed: _He does know I’ll actually kill him, right?_

“Yeah, no, I don’t think he’s smart enough to realize that,” Worick said, feigning sadness. With a sigh, he dropped his arm from Nic’s shoulder and said to Ivan, “Last chance to have me and/or one of these fine, talented ladies here. Otherwise… well,” he turned away with a flip of his hair and a wave good-bye.

Nic didn’t catch the rest, but he knew Worick well enough to know he’d probably said something akin to ‘I’ll leave you to your funeral,’ and so Nic put on his ‘bring it’ smile and locked eyes with Ivan.

The creep actually reached out for Nic’s dog tags, probably intending to grab hold. He never got there. Nic had Ivan’s wrist in his fist in a millisecond. To Ivan’s credit he only winced uncomfortably as Nic’s fingers crushed down on bone.

“You’re a runty, ugly mutt, anyway,” Ivan snarled. When he tried to pull his hand away, Nic let him go. He had no other choice given that Monroe still stood there, watching everything. Leaning in, Ivan presumably lowered his voice to say: “Next time your pretty boyfriend won’t be around to step in to save you.”

Nic wished he knew how to pitch his own voice to keep things private, but he couldn’t. Ah well. So, he just showed his teeth and said, “ **He didN’t Step iN to saVE Me, DiCKwAd. he stePPed iN to SAve yoU**.”

Then Nic turned his back and walked away. His heart raced from the adrenaline of unspent action. A sweaty fist clenched around the hilt of the katana he’d tied to his side. The need for blood and violence roared through his veins like an unquenchable fire.

Making a beeline for the door, Nic pushed out into the cool night air. The door handle embedded in the wall from the force. Fuck, he had to get a grip. Wrenching the door from the wall, he shut it more carefully. Letting out a breath, he leaned against the outer wall. He could guard the entrance for a while, at least until he came down a bit. 

High as he was, it was better not to be inside to see whatever Worick had to do to smooth things out with Ivan and Monroe, because the last time Nic had had to watched anyone abuse Worick, he'd slaughtered the fucker. And, despite the fact that Nic could crush the windpipes of this whole fucked-up District in a matter of seconds, he needed Monroe... for now. They hadn't yet found a supplier of their own for the Celebrer. Without that shit, Nic would die.

Because, despite what Nic had said, Worick had been trying to save him. He’d pay Nic’s debt now, too. 

A cloud passed over the moon. 

Things would be so much easier if they could just fucking kill everyone.


End file.
